Merrie felt a presence near her. She lifted her head and looked around. She was unsure if her eyes were opened or not, but it didn't matter. The light of the wards that protected wagon were a steady glare no matter which direction she looked at. Even beneath her, through the thick wooden floor of the wagon, power pulsated in a fine mesh of spells. It was a glare like coming out of a darkened house in the bright of summer. She could see the light and nothing else.
She tried to open her eyes but couldn't. She panicked for a moment until she brought her arm up to her face and realized they were already open. She blinked, focusing on the sensation of movement but she was still blind.
Unable to see anything, she lowered her head to the canvas. She stared out at the wards, not seeing anything but letting her mind drift. She didn't know how long it had been since they locked her in, but it felt like hours. Her stomach gurgled with hunger and it was hard not to think about anything else.
She sighed and ground her breasts into the canvas. The rough fabric against her erect nipples felt good. With a smile, she lifted her body and rubbed herself against the ridges. She rocked back and forth, sending little flares of pleasure along her senses.
The feeling of a presence returned. Merrie looked up and around, but saw nothing. Frustrated, she reached out with her mind. She couldn't sense anything, but the sense of someone in the room intensified. She frowned and turned around, trying to catch someone looking at her.
She was just about to lower her head to the canvas when she caught a flicker of something against the glare of the wards. It was a shred of darkness. Frowning, she focused her attention on it, trying to look past the glare at the emptiness she caught.
It was the silhouette of a human. She struggled to focus on the darkness through the glare, but she could see the figure easing open boxes around her and plucking out the contents.
Gulping, she opened her mouth. “W-What—”
The figure froze.
“—what are you doing?” Her voice was hoarse and she was shook by the similarity to Sable's smokey tone. It was the sound of a woman who didn't speak anymore.
The figure continued to remain still. Then, it flickered to the right.
She followed the movement with her head, pushing herself up to her knees as she caught a shift to the right, then a sharp turn to the left. Concentrating, she reached out with her mind but felt her attention being drawn to the side. It was a presence effect, just like the thief.
With that realization, she found it easier to fight. She smiled and reached out with her mind again. At the resistance, she slid her way through the repulsion until she found the barely shielded thoughts. Shock and worry brimmed inside the mind of the intruder, a fear of being caught and surprise that Merrie could see them.
It was the man from the blood games, the rude stranger and thief. She grasped on the train of his thoughts and used it as an anchor to pierce the veil that protected him.
With a rush, the repulsion faded but she still couldn't see him with the glare of the wards. But, she could hear the soft breathing and the clink of coins in his pocket that she somehow missed before.
“I can see you,” she whispered hoarsely.
For a long moment, no one said anything.
She tried again. “You're the thief stealing from everyone, aren't you? The guy on the bench?”
“Damn,” his voice was loud despite being a whisper, “you were suppose to be sleeping.” He had a northern accent, thick with influence from Belkim, the country north of Franome.
His shadowed form grew more solid, a blot against the wards. He leaned against the boxes and they shifted quietly from his weight. He had a smell to him, like smoke but more ethereal, the fumes of alcohol without the burn. She couldn't picture it but it smelled of dark things.
Merrie shrugged. “You're afraid.”
“Can't imagine why.” He chuckled dryly. His accent was northern, with the clipped tones of Franome City. “How can you see me?”
“You're…” she struggled with the words, “dark against the wards.”
Another chuckle, this one ending in a snort. “Ironic. I would never have expected you to see magic. Aren't you suppose to be some sex slave or something? I saw you on the auction block.”
She nodded, her body growing tense.
“A sex slave that can see magic?” He sounded amused more than surprised.
She nodded again, her ears twitching.
“What's your name?”
“Merrie.” It sounded strange to name herself.
The thief pushed himself to sit on top of one of the boxes. His silhouette wavered in the glare of magic and she lifted her eyes to where his own face would be. He said, “You really can see me, can't you?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Well, that was unexpected. Do all the sex slaves sold here see magic?”
She giggled and shook her head. “No, just me.”
“Damn, is that why that asshole count blew thirty million on you?”
Merrie shook her head again. Her throat was beginning to hurt a little from the talking. “He hates Bass, the thriban who trained me. So, he bought me so he could… he could…” grief rose up. Tears ran down her cheeks. “He's going to tort… hurt me.”
The thief sighed and leaned back against the boxes. “I was there when he was bidding on you. Actually, he had this cute chick on her knees and I was enjoying it. Rimmy never goes down on me, so any time I see a chick sucking on a cock, I have to watch.” He gave a sad groan. “I was thinking she was really get into it, she wasn't being held down or anything… at first. But then he held her down and she started choking.” The thief grew haunted, “She couldn't move as he held it there. Her shoulders were shaking but she couldn't stop. I saw… I saw her face growing dark and purple. I watched him choking her to death as he bid on you.”
Merrie could feel the sorrow and guilt radiating from the thief. It choked her. She got on her knees and looked up at him, trying to figure out what to say.
The thief rubbed his face, his movements a dark shadow against the glare of magic. “He's a fucking asshole. I know they kill girls here. I saw a bunch of them. But usually the chicks are really into it when they kill them. They cream at the thought of being snuffed. But that girl… she wasn't into it,” he sighed. “He deserves getting his money lifted. Fucking asshole.”
Neither said anything for a long moment.
“Count Ass-Hurt must really hate your guy.”
She nodded and choked out a whisper, “Yes.”
“All night, his guys have been searching for that money.” He snorted, “not like they'll ever find it. But, they've trashed almost all the stalls at the fair. Right now, most of them are in the camp sites, making asses of themselves and basically ruining the night for everyone.”
Merrie whimpered.
“The local count, I think his name is Blood or Waver or something, has his men around but they seem to be spending most of their time cleaning up messes and apologizing. A few are chasing after Ass-Hurt's men but kind of hard to stop everything. And, since people are greedy, there are a few looters over here on the white side. There is a big-assed thriban running around with this… huge-titty naked girl.” She could see him holding out his hands and giggled. “But I don't know if it is the sword he's got or her titties, but they show up and everyone calms down.” The thief shifted in place. “Wonder if she gives head?” He sighed. “Over on the red side—why do they have a white and red side anyways—there is some sort of wolf creature taking out anyone who tries to trash the place. Doesn't matter if it is Ass-Hurt's or looters, there is a just a scream and a blood.”
“That's Tabitha.”
“You name your monsters? Shit.” He groaned. “This county scares me. I'm glad I'm heading out. I just had to,” he tapped the box next to him, “take a shot at this, you know what I mean? I mean, you got chicks begging to get snuffed and they actually sell chicks on the… um, damn. I mean, you were sold. Just like property.”
Merrie realized her breath was getting deeper. Sitting on the auction block, knowing she was nothing but property gave her a rush.
“Are you,” the man leaned forward, “okay with that? I mean, are you getting off on it or something?”
She blushed hotly as she nodded. Her hips rocked back and forth as a slick heat gathered against her pussy. “Yes,” she whispered and a tiny thrill coursed up her spine.
“What did you do? Go to this big guy of yours and say ‘sell my ass’?”
“No,” she shook her head, “I was kidnapped from Franome City.”
A brief pause and then the thief snapped his fingers. “Oh! You were on that street! The one where everyone disappeared until some bodies showed up a few weeks later, right? I thought they caught the guys. It was in all the papers.”
She nodded.
“Damn. But, if you were kidnapped, why do you want to be sold? Shouldn't you be screaming for freedom. Or at least begging?”
“I-I…” Merrie struggled with the words. “I didn't know what I was until then.”
"So, you got kidnapped and then you started creaming when they made you do humiliating things?'
Merrie fought back a soft moan. “Yes.”
“Damn. I thought I was fucked up. But, you were sure sexy on that stage. I'd consider bidding, you know if I wasn't stealing everyone blind.” He let out a soft, gasping laugh. “So, what did your guy do? Rape Ass-Hurt's daughter?”
“No.”
“Did he rape Ass-Hurt? I mean, your big guy has to be huge, right?” The thief held out his hands, the dark shadow of his form almost a meter apart.
Merrie's pussy clamped at the memory of Bass' cock pounding inside her. A soft moan escaped her lips as she rocked her hips.
“Damn, I bet your cunt is loose if he's up in there. So, no rape. Did he steal? Cheat?”
“The last bitch that Rakin bought… ran away back to Bass.”
There was a long, stunned silence.
The thief shifted on his perch and more coins clinked together. “He's trashing an entire fair because he lost a fucking sex slave?” Disbelief radiated from the man. “Ass-Hurt is going to torture you because of a little lost pussy?”
Ears pressed against the side of her head, she nodded. “Yes.”
“I'm sure you are a great fuck, but I can't see how you would ever be worth the damage being done out there. Hell for thirty million, I'd have enough for a pair of walkers every night for years. Fuck, decades. And he just wants you? Ass-Hurt has been pissing in everyone's pot. When I was, um, let's say checking out the damage, I heard that Ass-Hurt has some mercenaries coming in. And that is when I decided to check out.” He was almost cheerful as he leaned over and opened another of the tax boxes; she didn't seem him unlock it but she could have sworn they were locked.
“Are you taking all of Blood's money?”
“Hell no. I like my testicles. My old master always told me to take one in a hundred. That way, it isn't that serious. Besides, I don't really need the money, I just wanted to see if I could get past the wards.” He lifted something and shook it, coins clinked together. “Just a couple hundred, nothing more.”
He jumped off the boxes. “Well, I better fade away.”
“Wait!” Merrie held out her hand. She spread her knees for balance, to avoid pitching forward.
He shifted away from her like a wisp of air. “What?”
“Have you see an old man with a withered hand? And a carved staff with a bell on top?”
Fingers caught the end of her arms. She froze as the delicate touch caressed the smooth end of her wrist. “What happened to your arm?”
Heat flushed inside her. She squirmed slightly and tried to pull the severed limb out of his grip, but he held her firmly. “I was cropped.”
“They cut off your wrist?”
“Both wrists and feet. Well,” she bit back a moan, “ripped them off. By Tabitha… the wolf creature.”
“And,” he sounded incredulous, “you are okay with that? With getting your hands torn off?”
Merrie jerked slightly. She never thought she would have to justify her body to anyone. It was simply something that happened. She couldn't come up with the words to describe how much she wanted it when she pressed her hand into Tabitha's mouth. After trying a few times, she let out a sigh. “I'm a bitch.”
“Like that explains everything?” He whispered with a low laugh. “Is that why you….?” he reached out for her.
She flinched as he reached out, but he easily caught her left ear in his fingers.
He was gentle as he stroked along the ridge and she moaned at the pleasure. “The ears are pretty and I assume you have a tail, but why were you… cropped?”
She knew it turned on Bass and it turn her on. The feeling of helplessness sent a rush of pleasure. She leaned into his firm fingers, enjoying the little pleasures that coursed down her spine and pooled in her pussy. “It makes me helpless.”
“Do you like being helpless?”
A flash of heat. “Yes.”
“So, you act like a puppy dog. Does that mean you like having a collar on you?”
The heat increased and she shifted into the begging position, but her arm was still caught in his grip. Her breath came faster as she stared at the inky blot of his body. “Yes,” she said in a low, husky whisper.
She caught the whiff of his growing excitement, a muskiness that blended with the ethereal smoky scent around him.
“Have you,” his voice grew huskier, “been put in a cage?”
With a moan, she nodded. His fingers continued to stroke her ear and she couldn't help but squirm in place.
“I bet you're sexy in a cage.”
She smiled, her lips parting. “I am.”
Her heart pounded in her chest as he stroked her ear. After a few moments of teasing pleasure, he released her arm and grabbed her other ear, caressing it from end to end. The dual stroking ignited the flames inside her. She drew her wrists up to her throat until the smooth ends tickled her neck.
He didn't say anything as he continued to stroke. His thumbs were delicate and light, sliding along the sensitive ridge and teasing the little hairs along the outer folds. It felt like he was stroking the skin around her pussy, teasing and sexy. With every stroke of his thumb, her pussy spasmed with need.
Merrie's breath came faster, her breasts pressing up against her arm as she stared at the inky blot that was the thief. She wished she could see him, to touch him, but he was teasingly focusing only on her ears.
“Are,” she jumped at his sudden voice, “really a fuck toy?”
“Yes,” she whispered. The heat was intense and she wanted to stroke herself. Her pussy ached to be filled. Even the teasing domination, holding her by her ears, was enough to keep her lusting for more. For a moment, she thought about Rakin, wishing he was there, but she forced her mind away from Rendi's final curse to focus on the nearly invisible man inside her.
“You suck cock right?”
Merrie started to answer, but then just opened her mouth and tilted her head back.
“Rimmy doesn't suck. She doesn't swallow either. Do you swallow?”
Mouth still open, she nodded.
“If it dribble out,” he said with a guttural moan, “would you lick it up?”
Merrie let out a soft, gasping bark. It was loud in the room and she felt a heat flashing inside her. Her inner muscles spasmed from the pleasure and heat tickled her inner thighs as she struggled to remain begging.
“You know what?” He released her ear. “I think I want to try you out. It would be like stealing from Ass-Hurt,” he chuckled, “again.”
She didn't need to see him to know what was coming next. The flash of musky excitement and the heat told her everything she needed. As he pulled his cock out, she opened her mouth wide and held herself still.
He stood there, a wet slurping noise filling the tiny cramped quarters as he stroked himself. “Do I just… put it in?”
She closed her mouth long enough to bark, then opened it wide.
“I guess that means yes. I'm,” he was breathing heavily, “not going to choke you.” And then his cock was against her lips. He was hot and swollen, a thick length of hardness. His precum was salty but had the same ethereal smell as the rest of him. She guessed it permeated his entire body. And then, she didn't care about anything besides the shaft sliding into her mouth.
He was pulsating as he slid inside. His hand gripped her other ear again, holding her still as he aimed for the back of her throat. A low moan escaped his lips.
She felt the bright flame of his lust. There was a newness to his action, a fear that it would end as soon as he let go of his breath.
Merrie opened her mouth and eased him inside, clamping her lips along the heated length. Even pressed against his skin, she couldn't see his body. It was just a darkness in front of her and a slickness in her mouth. She smiled around it and tightened her mouth, bobbing up and down as she explored the freedom he gave with his hands on her ears.
His breath was loud in the cramped quarters. He pushed forward, the ridges of his cock passing across her lips. She gulped at it, using her tongue to guide him deeper into his mouth. She knew exactly how much pressure to put on his length and avoid scraping his length with her teeth.
Lust boiled inside her, an inferno inside her body. She wanted to reach down, but she could feel what he wanted. Trembling with desire, she rested her amputated arms against his thighs.
“Oh, fuck,” he gasped as his cock surged with lust. His senses were fixed on the ends of her arms against his legs and his cock in the wet heat of her mouth. It leaked out of his ragged shields, a wave of lust that wrapped her in a cloud of ether and pleasure. The intensity of it burned Merrie's senses and she was rewarded with a fresh dribble of precum that ran down her throat. He thrust forward, his hips driving the cock into the back of her throat and her nose into the thick patch of hair at his base. Tiny hairs on his balls tickled her chin and lips.
She breathed in his scent. It was lighter than Bass' thick scent but had the wispy flavor of alcohol against her tongue. She gulped and forced herself down further. His cock head, a long narrow point, tickled the back of her throat but went no further. She worked her lips around his base, drinking in the scent as she enjoyed every throb of his length inside her. Her lips splayed open against his balls, enjoying the tickle of hair and the roundness.
“Fuck,” he whispered hoarsely. His fingers gripped her ears tighter, almost crushing them.
Tiny ripple of discomfort ran through her, but it came with a sparkling pleasure of being controlled. He was dominating her, not as expertly as Bass or anyone else, but the tiny yanks on her ears to drive her further down added to her pleasure.
She wanted to come, she needed to feel the crest, but his pleasure was addictive. She knew what would push him over the edge. Gulping deep on his cock and grinding her face into his bush, she slid the smooth ends of her arms up his thighs.
“Oh…” he let out a shuddering gasp. (Damn, I wish Rimmy would do this.) His thoughts were bare but almost incoherent, slipping from Merrie's grip like a shadow.
His shaft grew harder in her mouth, the tip of it sliding against the wet back of her throat. Precum soaked her throat, dribbling down in a salty warmth. (If I did this, she would be screaming "Kine, you asshole!") There was amusement mixing in with his lust.
She worked her hands underneath his balls, rolling them along the smooth ends and along her body.
He let out a long groan, a guttural noise of need. His fingers crushed her ears, pulling her down hard against his cock as it exploded against the back of her throat. The first splatter painted in the back of her throat, tickling her gag reflex.
The thief slammed forward twice, pumping hard, then he shoved her back. The next surge caught the top of her mouth, dripping thick liquid against her tongue.
His cock popped out of her mouth as he was still coming. Splatters of cum smacked against her face. The hot cum whipped along her eyes and her nose. A second caught her forehead and the third splashed on her throat.
She panted and enjoyed the sound of his heavy breathing. His body trembling with his orgasm. Wet splatters filled the room as his cum struck against the canvas tarp and wooden floor below her.
He released her ears. A prickle of pain ran along them as the blood returned to her ears. She let out a long shuddering breath and brought her hands back to her throat.
His cum dribbled down her body, tracing the curves of her breasts and down into the “V” of her legs. More splatters filled the air.
“Lick it,” he breathed in a whisper. “Lick it up.”
Merrie barked and lowered herself to the ground. Spreading her arms and legs widely, she ran her face along the canvas until she found the first glob of cooling cum. Looking up at the black shadow of the thief, she lapped the rough fabric. The musty smell mixed with the salty sweetness of his cum.
Kine's moan gave her a surge of pleasure. “Damn, you're sexy.” (I wish Rimmy would do that. It would be so hot.)
She took her time cleaning up the floor. Her pussy pulsed with need, but his moans added to the slow burn of pleasure inside her. She clamped her legs together, using her thighs to squeeze as she searched the ground blindly for his cum.
When she couldn't find any more, she sat back up and begged.
“I bet you'd let me fuck your ass too, wouldn't you?”
Merrie spun around and spread her legs.
Another moan. “But, as much as I want to, I really need to run off.” She could feel that he was already planning out his route through the fair, his mind focusing on where he needed to jump, where to run, and how to slip through the patrols.
Pouting, she turned back around and brought her arms up. She wagged her tail back and forth.
“You would be sexy in a cage,” he murmured as he buttoned his pants back up. “I won't ever forget this, Merrie. I just wish I could see what happens to you, but I have to go before sun comes. I don't deal well with light, you know.”
He reached out and stroked her ear.
She let out a soft moan of pleasure. Her heart thumped loudly as she leaned into his warm hand.
“Damn shame that Ass-Hurt is fighting over you. I bet,” he stroked her ear again, “you'd be a sexy as hell ass fuck.”
Merrie grinned and barked again.
Power rose around them. Kine's shadow spread out across the wards, fading as the air grew tight around her.
“You know,” his voice was hazy and fading, “I never saw an old guy with a withered hand. But, I did see an old man watching your auction. He had a carved staff underneath his blanket. He was kind of short and sitting alone.”
Merrie gasped as an image flashed by her. It was from a different angle than hers, but she saw the man before. He was the other one with a repulsion effect around her. From Kine's point of view, she could see the duke's staff peeking out from the edge of the old man's blanket, hidden but within sight.
She stared up at the brightening light. Kine was fading before her eyes and she could barely see his outline again. “Thank you… Kine.”
But he was already gone.
She let out a hesitant bark, but no answer came back.
The image of the duke's staff welled up. She knew how to find him. Curling up, she sank to the ground and brought up the spell. It didn't come as easily before, but she could remember the individual runes that made it up. Flipping them in her mind, she twisted and rotated them until they sank into place. She adjusted it just like Haviston and then set the image of the duke inside.
She paused for a moment, then gathered up her power. Carefully feeding it into the spell, she watched it brighten until brilliance, then ignite with a rush. She forced it into a wedge and felt it spreading out. As soon as she didn't get a response, she sent out another wave.
Merrie was just powering up for a third spell when a ripple came back. It was the duke. He was on the far end of the camps, watching as two men in Rakin's uniform tore apart his neighbor's campsite. On the other side of him, Blood's men were trying to help a family put theirs back up.
Elation burned inside her. She found the duke and knew exactly where he was. She opened her mouth, panting, then realized she couldn't tell anyone. She was locked in the wagon, away from others. But, she could reach out for Haviston or Sable. Taking a deep breath, she reached out with her mind.
A wave of dizziness slammed into her. Exhausted, she slumped to the ground with a thud. Her body stung from the impact but she couldn't find the energy to push herself back up. She remained on the ground, the rough canvas scraping her skin and panted.
For her growing skill, Merrie didn't have a handle on what exhausted her. The natural talents she had, reaching out and probing, seemed easy, but the spells that Haviston had been teaching her were exhausting. They were also far more powerful and precise, but she felt like she had run ten kilometers by doing nothing but thinking hard.
She took a deep breath and caught hint of the thief's cum on the canvas. Humiliated and shamed, she inched across the ground until she found the congealed blob. It was salty and thick. Without a second thought, she licked it up with fantasy that he was still watching.
But, no shadowed figure came and no hands touched her. Merrie remained sprawled on the floor of the wagon until she gathered up enough energy. Trying again, she reached out with her mind for Haviston.
A dead-panned response came. (Yes?)
(I found him. I found the duke.) She sent an image of the duke, both his staff and the memory she picked up from Eolis.
(Really?) He seemed surprised but also proud. (By yourself?)
(Y… Yes.)
Amusement rippled from his thoughts. (You are lying, but I have neither the time or energy to discern why.)
She flushed. (I—)
(I don't care. Are you expecting me to help? I can't.)
Merrie whimpered and curled up. Frustration and anger rose up and she felt it choking her. (Why not? Why won't you help me get away from Rakin!?) Gathering up her emotions, she got ready to lash out at him.
(Calm down,) came the monotone response, (I'm three meters to the south of your current physical location. At the moment, the two counts are screaming at each other and I'm trying to make sure neither decides weapons are needed to resolve their differences.)
The anger slipped away. (I…)
(I am not surprised by your anger, though I would appreciate if you didn't waste your energy trying to lash out at me. I'm well prepared to handle what you can project in your situation. As I have stated, I have no intent in helping you remain at the mill, but I don't see how retrieving the duke will impact that. It will, however, save a number of lives and cease this senseless violence.) A wave of pride and encouragement washed over her. (I am proud of your initiative and your resourcefulness, Merrie Golddotter. You will become a great alpha in the coming years.)
She beamed at the compliment. It felt like she had to climb a mountain to get it and she felt a tiny orgasm at Haviston's approval.
(Count Mard Rakin's tirade is reaching a peak and I need to ensure he does not try to use his weapon or do anything to wake up the infernal pretending to be a little girl,) he sent an image of Diffy sleeping on the ground by the fire. (Sable and Bass may be able to help you retrieve the duke. She is located here.) He sent a direction, not in the physical world but across the mental plains.
(Thank you, Haviston.)
Haviston didn't respond.
Using her flagging energy, Merrie reached out. The guide that Haviston made it easy to reach well past Sable's projection range and almost to the edge of Merrie's. With Merrie's familiarity with Sable's mind, she managed to cling on to the alpha's thoughts. (Sable?)
(Merrie!) The alpha's thoughts were brilliantly cheerful with an undercurrent of exhaustion, both physically and mentally.
Merrie smiled at the bright thoughts that flowed to her. She basked in Sable's love for a moment.
(It is hell out here,) Sable's exhaustion sapped her thoughts, (Rakin's men are destroying everything. We just stopped a fight between a dozen on each side, but there are all these little fires my master and I have to put out. We are doing as much as we can, but we can't be everywhere.)
(Is Borias and the others okay?)
(Borias is on the white side at the healer's tent. The count has three men guarding it to make sure his geas isn't triggered. Haviston is—)
(Just outside. I've already talked to him.)
(I think he's being helpful, but he's subtle. Like my master, fights stop around him and people walk away with very disturbed looks on their face. He said he could do more, but then he would risk them committing suicide. We are not sure what we think of him.)
Merrie smiled. (Worse than Kessler?)
(No one is worse than Kessler,) came the sharp response, then an exhausted amusement.
(I'm sorry, I wish I could help.)
(You are exactly where you need to be, Merrie.) Sable projected a tired comfort. (If you were out here, Rakin would only scream louder and push his men to more damage. Knowing you are locked up is keeping a lid on some of his revenge, I think.)
Merrie stretched out on the floor. She felt useless in the room, but she didn't have the talents to do anything. She ran her short arms through the canvas before she realized she could help. (Sable? Are you still looking for the duke?)
(No, we've been running ourselves ragged trying to keep it from blowing up. If it isn't Rakin's men tearing apart camps, it is county folk threatening to rise up, or looters sneaking back into the fair. It is like a puzzle. We can stop the fighting near us, but as soon as they get out of range,) Merrie got the impression that Bass' presence was the same range as Sable's telepathy, about sixty meters.
Merrie's frustration began to mirror Sable's. (Why won't the counts stop it? The duke?)
(Blood has been trying to calm Rakin down for hours now. At least they are just screaming at each other, but it is preventing Blood from taking charge and maybe stopping this. But, it also means Rakin isn't leading his men either. So, good and bad.)
(Can't we stop Rakin?)
(Trying, my dear one. Rakin was smart. He had his men spread out all over the fair. We put out one fire and two more start. Without breaking—)
(I know where the duke is.)
Surprise and shock rippled through the connection. (Really!? How!?) Sable's voice layered with Bass' for a moment in the excitement.
(Do you know where this camp is?) She sent the location she found with her spell.
Elation burned brightly from the alpha. (We were just there only a few minutes ago, but the campsite is empty.)
(It isn't. The duke is using something like your Presence, but to keep you from looking at him.)
(My master is heading there now.)
(Good. I can only hope it helps.)
(Thank you,) came the warm thoughts from Sable. (I need to go though, I have to do something.) The connection broke with a ripple of transformation. Merrie got a flash of Sable in her armored form as it faded.
“Be safe,” whispered Merrie. Her voice was loud in the silence of the room. She looked around, but the glare blinded her. She was hoping to find the shadow against the wards, but the thief was long gone. She felt it as he was coming, he would never come back.
She was sure he stole the money though, which meant Rakin would not be able to pay for her. It was something, at least.
Merrie rolled on her back, stretching out across the canvas. Her nipples hardened in the air and she felt a few streaks of cum prickling her skin. She let her mind drift as she tried to find something else to do. She had to save herself, but she didn't think she could do anything more. Merrie had found the duke, but she didn't know if he would help.
(Rakin has finished his baseless ranting,) Haviston sent a quick thought, (and is storming back to his tent. Eolis is about to open the door and feed you, so it would look impressive if you were begging when he did.)
Merrie gasped and scrambled to her face. She managed to get on her knees when the door creaked open. She watched the light spear across the darkness and she blinked at the brightness.
With a start, she realized she was facing the wrong way and spun around. Blushing, she focused on the door as Eolis stood in it, a smile on his lips.
“Hungry?”
Merrie stared in confusion for a moment, trying to get her eyes to focus. And then his words sank in and her stomach rumbled. Blushing, she gave a hesitant nod.
Eolis tapped the edge of the wagon. “Come here, then.”
From over the thriban's shoulder, Count Blood slumped into a chair. He was exhausted, with dark shadows underneath his eyes. The mug in his hand slumped to the side and beer dribbled out.
Next to him, his daughter was wrapped around a large teddy bear, looking adorably cute as she slept. However, for all of her innocence, there was a dark shadow hulking over her, like some terrible creature watching the world with pitch-black eyes.
Merrie shivered and crawled over. The air outside the wagon was moist and still. The summer heat had faded and the coolness was almost a relief as she stared out past the flames. With Eolis' wagon, she couldn't see the fair but she could hear the occasional din of breaking crates or the ring of weapons. She stopped in front of Eolis and peered down. The wagon was high off the ground and she didn't think she could crawl off.
Eolis reached around her and slid his large hands underneath her shins and buttocks. Like Bass, his fingers stretched clear across her body. One finger briefly caressed her pussy, but he didn't touch her aching slit again. He carried her over to a chair by the fire and set her down on the ground.
The young, submissive man set down a plate in front of her. It was heaped high with meat, cheeses, and breads. A thick stew pooled underneath everything and the smell of it brought a fresh gurgle from her belly.
Merrie smiled warmly at him and knelt down so she could eat. It tasted as good as it smelled and she quickly had her face in her meal, gulping down the hot food.
The young man served Eolis another plate before giving the thriban a large mug of lager. A few minutes later, he set down a bowl of a local brew next to Merrie.
She looked up and whispered, “Thank you.”
Eolis grunted. “I was wondering how long it would take you to talk. Bass trained you well.”
Merrie blushed and ducked her head.
“No, no. It's okay. It would be nice to hear someone not screaming for once.”
From across the fire, Count Blood groaned. “I'm not screaming.”
“No, but you should be sleeping, count.”
“I can't sleep,” the count's voice was exhausted, “Dormit will be reporting in soon. And I have someone watching Rakin's tent. Maybe if he goes to sleep, we can get a handle on this.”
“Hatred keeps that man awake,” Eolis grumbled. He grabbed his mug and drank deeply.
Merrie listened to the two men speaking, humbled that powerful men sounded just like her father when she was growing up. She shifted over to the bowl of lager and lapped at it; the droplets of beer ran down her throat but she ignored them.
The count groaned and buried his face in his hand. “This is such a cluster fuck, Eolis. Damn, that man. I can't arrest him because we're both counts and the bastard knows it. And as long as he's giving orders to his men, they are working under his authority and I can't arrest them either.”
“Rakin is known far and wide as a brilliant strategist for a reason. Not to mention being a rather competent battle mage.”
“My grandfather wouldn't have these problems.”
Eolis chuckled. “Your grandfather would have destroyed the fair in an epic battle that would have left this a wasteland. And your father, the gods forgive his soul, would have sent assassins the second Rakin entered the county. Of course, he would now be raping this ass,” Eolis reached down and tapped Merrie's ass cheek with a thick hand, “before handing her back to who actually bought her.”
She tilted her ass and tail toward him, but Eolis took no more advantage of her.
“Well,” Count Blood yawned again, “those aren't right answer either. Damn it, what am I suppose to do? I keep looking for the correct thing to do, but I can't figure it out.”
“Sometimes,” Merrie jumped at the rough voice coming from the darkness, “there are no right answers.”
Both Eolis and the count jumped to their feet. Merrie spun around as the duke stepped out of the darkness. Behind him, Bass' figure in shining armor oozed out of the pitch of night.
“My lord duke!” Count Blood dropped to one knee as he bowed.
“Get up, Waver, it's far too early in the morning for niceties,” the duke limped into the light of the fire and sank down in the nearest chair. His breath was ragged and wheezing. He slumped back and reached out his dark, withered hand. The frail fingers cracked as he gestured. “Thriban, my staff.”
Bass set the duke's staff in the shaking hand. “My lord duke.”
Duke Natis glanced at Eolis. Merrie looked over her shoulder at the thriban next to her. To her surprise, Eolis made a short gesture toward her. Blushing, Merrie peeked back over.
She realized the duke was looking at her. Unsure how to respond as a bitch, she lowered her head until her forehead touched the ground. Her tail also lowered until it pressed tightly against her pussy.
The duke spoke in a rough voice. “Eolis, get Mard here.”
“Right away.” The thriban stepped over Merrie and hurried into the darkness.
“Waver,” continued the duke.
“Yes, my lord?”
“You're a pussy.”
A stunned silence followed, interrupted only by the cracking of the fire.
“M-My lord?”
Next to the Count Blood, Diffy cracked open her eyes and a sense of pressure settled over the camp.
“You should have stopped Rakin hours ago.”
“But, the law—”
“It's your county and your fair. Your actions, more importantly inactions, today will be remembered for years. Rakin may drag it back up to the court, but then I would have a say in it properly instead of being dragged out to stop your problems for you… again.”
The count stood up. He clasped his wrists behind his back and stood up straight. “Yes, my lord duke. What should I have done?”
The duke leaned to the side, his tiny hand clutching his staff. He looked around the campfire for a moment, his eyes briefly stopping on Merrie before focusing his attention back on the count. “The problem is you're too nice. You have never been in a war or a battle, but you are one of the eastern counties between Dorza and the rest of Franome. You are the first line of defense against invasion and you can't even handle a hundred guys trashing your fair.”
He continued. “I don't care that you get your rocks off snuffing people. I don't care that your fair has people lining up to get killed. What I do care is that you,” he pointed a shaking finger at the count as he spoke in a hard, cracked voice, “are losing control of your lands and your people. Your guards are poorly trained, you allowed those damned paladins to wander on in to wage war with your pet fallen paladin—”
Bass tensed but said nothing.
“—and I don't like your daughter.”
There was a ripple of power and Diffy was suddenly standing in front of the duke, her long knife aimed at his throat. She shoved forward, her face a mask of rage, but her blade rang out when it struck a brilliantly white great sword that interposed itself between the girl and the duke.
Power rippled down Bass' sword, the air wavering from the energy from the summoning spell. Bass took another step and forced her blade back.
Diffy's eyes were pitch black as she glared at Bass.
The duke, unfazed by the weapons, shook his head. “You have a devil for a daughter, a fallen paladin, and a psychopathic druid on your lands. Each one of them is capable of destroying an entire army on their own and it only takes one spark to set them off.” He waved his hand at Diffy, ignoring the drawn weapons, “As your daughter has demonstrated. You, Waver, haven't showed anyone that you can control any of these weapons. Why should I,” he pointed to himself, “believe you are worthy of your title.”
Count Blood's jaw twitched. “Because I may not be as powerful as my grandfather or vicious as my father, but I am capable of leading these lands. Bass is loyal and will defend the county with his life.”
“I promised,” Bass added in a deep, tense rumble.
“And Tabitha protects these lands as her own.”
“For what reason?”
“Because this is her home and there is no question where I, or this county or kingdom, stand in her eyes. She says that she will defend it and she will. More importantly, she is protecting this fair even though she asked for no payment or relief.”
“She's a psychopath.”
“Yes, but in a county that does a brisk trade in blood and violence, she is what I need.”
“And her?” The duke pointed to Diffy.
The little girl's blade scraped against Bass' weapons, leaving a black streak that smoked. Her eyes were locked on the duke's, a stark contrast to her falsely innocent appearance.
“Even if you don't believe it, I have know exactly who and what my daughter is. I know there is an infernal in the body of my daughter, but without, Diffy would have died at birth.”
Diffy froze, her eyes growing wide. She looked over her shoulder at her father.
Count Blood didn't move his attention from the duke. “You may not agree with my decision to keep her, but the truth it, I love her with all my heart. And, as long as I do, I have no doubt that it is in her best interest to keep her goals aligned with mine.”
The young girl's blade relaxed and lowered. “Daddy?”
Bass stepped back, but he didn't pull back his sword.
Without even a flicker of movement, the blade was gone and Diffy was hugging her father's leg tightly. Merrie didn't see her move. The little girl was simply in a different place. “I love you, daddy!”
Merrie stopped pretending to eat her meal and sat up. She used her arm to wipe her face, then leaned back on her ankles. She wasn't begging, but at least she was in the comforting sitting position. The air felt hot as she watched everyone moving and no one paying attention to her.
Somehow, being ignored just added a flush to her skin. She was an object, a belonging. She was below their notice and loved it.
Suddenly Haviston was standing there, next to Merrie. “There are others bound to this count, some for a period and others for life.”
The duke trembled as he took in the psychic. “I don't know you.”
“Haviston Kivas, formerly of the Knight's Academy of Mental Excellence.”
“Formerly?”
Haviston's deadpanned voice didn't change. “Currently employed at the Paladin Puppy Mill.”
“And does that make you a defender of Blood County?”
“One protects one's home.”
“Kivas. You are related to Rendi and Borias?”
“A distant cousin.”
“Red door or white?”
For the first time, Haviston hesitated and a flicker of emotion crossed his face. “Red.”
Merrie frowned in confusion. The duke and Haviston knew what they were talking about, but Merrie didn't understand the terse question and answer.
The duke shook his head. “Then why should I trust a criminal? Nothing good came from those who walk through the red door of Abbinkey.”
“Because I paid my debt to society. I earned my freedom, I did my time, and I have the paperwork to prove it.”
"Borias' paperwork was not authentic. One might say," Duke Natis glanced at Bass, “that someone forged it in their attempts to sneak the mage out of Abbinkey.”
Bass tensed again, his jaw tightening with a storm of emotions.
“Mine is,” Haviston replied, “and I will do anything you require to prove its authenticity.”
The duke said nothing for a long time. Slowly, he turned back to Count Blood. “Waver.”
The count stood straighter.
“Your defenses are heroes and villains. You happen to keep them in this county because of charisma and happenstance. They are capable but they have no leadership. That is why you failed tonight. You failed to lead them.”
Count Blood tensed up but bowed his head. He rested a possessive hand on Diffy's head. “Yes, my lord duke.”
“By the time Eolis comes around to collect next year's taxes, I expect you to have a standing army of no less than two hundred men. Two hundred normal,” he empathized the word with a wave of his withered hand, “men. I want proof that your so-called protectors have committed to the defense and training of your army. And I want a proper military demonstration that you are capable of leading this county.”
“I understand, my lord duke.”
“And, most importantly. I don't want to hear even a peep, a rumor, or even a hint that your people are in Franome City. That means your pet paladin doesn't do his annual kidnapping run. Or that your cannibalistic cow herder isn't picking up new meat. For the next five years, no hero of Blood County shows up in the royal city. No landowner even steps foot within a hundred kilometers of the city gates. Do you understand?”
Count Blood bowed deeply. “Yes, my lord.”
The duke looked over his shoulder at Bass. “Do you understand, paladin?”
“Yes,” Bass flipped the sword behind his back and bowed even deeper, “my lord duke.”
“Good. Now that is resolved. I have another…” he paused and tilted his head, “hold on, Rakin is here.”
Rakin's voice drifted through the darkness. “This better be worth it, Eolis. I don't have time to deal with Blood's crap right now.”
Eolis only grunted.
A shiver of fear ran down Merrie's spine. She fought the urge to crawl away, but then the image of Rakin's cock swam across her mind. She wanted it and her breath came faster as she watched the count storm out of the darkness.
Rakin headed straight for Blood, but stopped a meter past the duke. His eyes widened as he stood still. Gulping, he turned around. “My lord duke?”
“Mard,” the duke said, “what are you doing?”
“Someone stole my money. I'm getting—”
“You are violating the laws of this country with your stunt.”
“She's my bitch!”
The duke pushed himself out of the chair and leaned against the staff. His breath was ragged as the wood creaked. “Your money is gone and you can't afford her.”
“I won her!”
“You can't afford her,” repeated the duke.
“Someone has—”
“Mard,” Duke Natis held up his free hand, “shut up.”
Rakin clamped his mouth shut with a snap.
“This is now over. You lost her.”
Rakin's hands balled into fists and his lip pulled back in a snarl. “My lord—”
“No. This is over, Rakin. Today, you are going to pack up and go home. And you are not to return to Blood County until…” the duke glanced around. His eyes lighted on Bass. “Until that thriban dies.”
Bass blinked. “M-Me?”
Rakin's face purpled. “He's immortal! He's never going to die.”
“No, he's just long lived. And you're a necromancer. If you really want to continue this little pissing match with him, then you wait until he and his bitch die, raise the bodies, and get your revenge on their corpses. Do you understand?”
“My lord—”
The duke held up a finger. “If the next words out of your mouth are not ‘yes, my lord duke,’ you will be enjoying the rest of the week in Count Blood's dungeon.”
Body tense, Rakin bowed deeply. “Yes, my lord duke.”
“You have one hour to stop your men from trashing the fair and twenty-four hours to leave Blood County.”
“Yes, my lord duke,” Rakin forced out the words.
There was a long pause. “Now.”
Rakin bowed again and then stormed out of sight.
Merrie stared back and forth, watching the tense men standing at attention around the duke. None of them were happy, including Eolis. The duke gestured for Eolis' submissive man. “Zeob, get me a drink.”
“Yes, my lord duke,” said the young man as he rushed to serve the duke.
“Bassimar.”
Bass hurried around to stand in front of the duke. “Yes, my lord duke?”
“I've been watching you and your bitch.”
“Yes?”
“I don't like you.”
Bass' shoulders slumped. “Yes, my lord duke.”
“I don't trust you anymore than any of the other villains of this county. However, your actions tonight have demonstrated that you will be an acceptable successor for Baron Kessler's title.”
Shock slammed into Bass. “M-My lord?”
“Um,” Count Blood stepped forward, “me and Kessler have not had a chance to talk to Bassimar about that.”
His face pale, Bass' jaw opened and he looked at the count. “Kessler's?”
The count gave an apologetic look. “Sorry, I was hoping to get you two talking over a few beers. Kessler is considering you to take his title when he dies. He needed permission from me and the duke, though.”
“And I'll give it,” said the duke. “I don't like the idea of a fallen paladin having title, but I realized that you continue to have aspirations of being good, even when you don't think anyone is watching.”
“W-Why,” Bass struggled with his words, “why is Kessler considering me? He has a son and a daughter.”
The count shook his head. “And both of those sadists make Kessler look like a saint. I'm not comfortable accepting either one of those as the baron's successor and Kessler suggested you.”
“I-I don't understand.”
“Kessler has cancer,” Waver sighed and shook his head.
There was a long, stunned silence.
“When? When did he find out?”
Blood said, “A few months ago. He petitioned Madock but I don't think it went well. The god is quite keen on rewarding Kessler for the good he's done.”
“I-I don't know what to say.”
“Tomorrow morning,” the count paused, “how about the day after tomorrow, come up to the fortress and talk. We need to talk about this.”
Bass nodded, his face still pale. He looked down at the ground before he spoke. “What about Merrie?”
Suddenly, everyone was looking at her. Merrie shivered at the intensity of their gazes. She gulped at the dryness in her throat. Trembling, she drew her wrists up to her neck and held herself still. A heat bubbled in her sex, reminding her that she never reached an orgasm with the thief.
The duke waved his hand and shrugged. “Keep her. We'll have Rakin pay a fine for wasting your time.”
Merrie gasped as a surge of excitement rose inside her. She was going to stay at the mill. A slow smile stretched across her face as the heat boiled inside her. She was not only free of Rakin, but she could stay.
Hatred slammed into her. The smile froze on her face as she felt it rising up in her throat, a fury that burned inside her veins. Merrie didn't have a chance to even respond as she felt it choking her throat. Images came rushing back, plucked from her memories at the mill. She saw herself being broken and trained, manipulated into becoming an alpha as Bass pushed her talents to sell her to the highest bidder.
She couldn't stay with Bass. She couldn't remain with a man who took advantage of people so easily. He was a hypocrite and a user, worse than Kessler and Grange combined.
She wanted to sob, but the noise froze in her throat. The hatred and fury tore through her. Her entire body was shaking with the effort not to reach over to claw Bass.
And then, adding to the horror, she opened her mouth. “No.”
It wasn't her words, it wasn't her idea. She had no control over her body. She wanted to cry, sob, and beg for forgiveness, but she couldn't. Her mind was ripped from her body and she could only experience in mute helplessness as she repeated herself again, her voice loud over the crackling fire.
“What?” asked Count Blood.
She tried to clamp her mouth shut, but she kept speaking with all the anger she felt. “I will never go back to the mill.”
Merrie shook with the effort to free her body. She tried to look around, to ask Haviston for help, but her eyes slid away from where he was standing. It was the repulsion effect but it was far stronger than the thief's or the duke's power. She sobbed inside her head as she forced her eyes back to Haviston.
A piercing headache slammed into her. She fought every degree as she drove herself to look to the side. Her muscles screamed out in agony and she felt an ache spreading along her skin. Everything inside her screamed to look away, to stop fighting, but she couldn't. Something was forcing her to speak and she had to know who.
With a rush, she forced herself past the repulsion. Her eyes blurred from the effort but she managed to focus on Haviston.
He was standing, but his rigid posture was gone. Instead, he slumped against the side of the wagon with blood dribbling down from his nose and ears. It left a crimson streak spreading along his white robes and it hit the ground with wet splatters.
No one else seemed to noticed him as he leaned into the wagon and slid down a few centimeters. His one good eye focused on her and she felt his thoughts sliding into her own.
A tremble shook through her body as she felt him turn her head back and bring a glare to her face. She strained against the domination, but it was too much for her. She opened her mouth, not to beg for forgiveness but to snarl at Bass. “I will never go back to you, ever.”
(I won't let you stay,) Haviston projected as his thoughts broke in and out. Behind her, Merrie heard him drop to the ground and flinched at the sound. She could smell fresh blood in the air but his thoughts were still in her mind. He was conscious, but barely.
No one else even looked at Haviston. Instead, they were looking at her with surprise. On Bass' face, there was a look that he was gutted, a hurt expression that tore Merrie's heart in half.
Anger continued poured into her, erasing the sympathy she had for him. He used her, he trained her. He pretended to love her just to bring her powers into the fore. And she finally had a chance to be free.
(No, Haviston, don't do this. Please—)
(You… will not….) His thoughts faded as he slammed the spell into her.
Her mind cracked under Haviston's assault. She could feel him burning the hatred into her, searing it into the private places she could never forget. All the love she felt for him was shoved aside for her anger, her hatred. She could never forgive the man who kidnapped her.
“Merrie?” Bass reached out his hand.
“No!” Her voice was shrill.
He lowered his hand and stepped back. Tears shimmered in eyes and she felt a surge of triumph. She was finally going to escape the man who hurt her. She was finally going to be free.
“Well then,” the duke said as he leaned on his staff, “her opinions are rather clear. Waver?”
“Yes, my lord duke?”
“Tomorrow morning, put her up on a new auction. Find her a new master… if there is anyone left to pay for her.”